


Shadows and Sunlight and Sorrows.

by FinickityinFields123 (lifetheuniverseandeverything42), lifetheuniverseandeverything42



Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [3]
Category: FAH - Fandom, foil arms and hog
Genre: Abuse, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Comedy RPF, Comfort/Angst, Cute Ending, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Multi, Non-Graphic Smut, One Shot, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, RPF, Sad with a Happy Ending, True Love, Video Blogging RPF - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29218530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifetheuniverseandeverything42/pseuds/FinickityinFields123, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifetheuniverseandeverything42/pseuds/lifetheuniverseandeverything42
Summary: When the Seans got together, they hadn’t told Conor.He had understood that to mean that he wasn’t welcome, wasn’t a part of whatever they had.That was fine, except it wasn’t.They hadn’t told him because they hadn’t known what to say, hadn't known how to say: ‘we want you too’.And now it was too late. Or was it?
Relationships: conor mckenna/sean finegan/sean flanagan
Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776028
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Shadows and Sunlight and Sorrows.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Demi-Troubles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752186) by [StrawbebbieFAH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawbebbieFAH/pseuds/StrawbebbieFAH). 



> I was really nervous posting this. There isn't much in the fandom and I've never really written RPF before - this is also as close to smut as anything I've ever written. 
> 
> I just love these boys and I while I don't necessarily think they are together or need them to be, I thought this was cute and sort of accidentally wrote it. 
> 
> Sorry for hurting them, but I have an angst brain and it's basically all I write.
> 
> Trigger warnings for domestic abuse.

They had all loved each other for years, in a kind of deep but mostly platonic way.

They completed each other, flowed in and out of each other’s thoughts and even spaces.

Not long ago they had begun living together - each with separate bedrooms, but all the same, together.

It had been logical, due to all the time they already spent at the others' flats.

It was the smart decision, no matter how each’s heart leapt at the idea of spending more time with the others.

It was only when they were staring middle age in the face and had begun looking about them for people to spend their lives with that they had realised.

The only ones they wanted to be with were each other.

But Sean had moved first.

When the Seans got together, they hadn’t told Connor.

He had understood that to mean that he wasn’t welcome, wasn’t a part of whatever they had.

That was fine, except it wasn’t.

They hadn’t told him because they hadn’t known what to say, hadn't known how to say: ‘we want you too’.

And now it was too late.

Connor had gotten a boyfriend a short while after his co-workers and flatmates actually told him they were having sex.

(As if he hadn’t heard them through the thin walls of their shared home.)

That’s it.

That’s all they said.

Not boyfriends, not in a relationship.

Just…

So Connor had moved on, or tried to at least.

He had found someone to distract him, someone to be the reason he was walking sore instead of Flanagan or Finnegan.

He had found a reason to be out of the flat on nights when his soundproof headphones were no longer sufficient.

But he didn’t love him. How could he?

He loved them.

And they loved him, only he didn’t know it.

~~Only they didn't show it.~~

Only none of them said it.

When his boyfriend hit him for the first time, Connor was shocked.

None of them had ever hit each other, not even in the fiercest of arguments or when they were drunk.

(Both of which had been the case on that particular evening.)

He had walked out.

But had no where to go.

He knew Sean and Sean had cuddled up for a movie and would no doubt be going at it on the couch by now.

And he thought he wasn't welcome there.

So he returned to his boyfriend’s waiting arms and let him coo apologies into his ear.

The next time he didn’t even move.

Just stayed there, wondering what the Seans were doing.

What they were doing to each other while his boyfriend kicked him as he lay on the floor, where he had been thrown like a sack of potatoes.

Within a matter of months, Connor was a shell of himself.

Distracted and tired always.

Bruised, beaten and in pain - inside and out.

The Seans pretended not to hear the nightmares, just as he pretended not to hear their moans.

They were worried.

All parties knew that.

Connor was worried too, and scared.

But he was trapped.

Where else could he go?

Who else would love him?

Would they- would they welcome him in?

If they knew what he did in his boyfriend’s forceful grip?

If they knew what he did in his own grip to the music of their love-making in the room next door?

They would hate him. They would loathe him.

Like he already did himself.

When one night he came home with bruises he could no longer sufficiently hide; Finnegan decided enough was enough.

“You shouldn’t go back there.”

He declared as he watched McKenna gingerly seat himself on their couch, ignoring the sharp look he got from Flanagan.

“What?” Connor replied, dazed.

He blinked up at Sean with slightly glazed eyes and Finnegan swore.

“Connor.”

He grabbed him by the shoulders and he flinched at the contact.

“Connor.”

Determinedly he shook him a little, trying to get that lolling head to face him.

“Fin, I don’t think he’s okay.”

“No fucking kidding. Help me get him up.”

The two wound their arms around him and heaved him into a swaying upright position.

With one spare arm, Flanagan lifted the pale blue t-shirt to reveal mottled bruises of blue, purple and green to the harsh electric lighting.

Both men swore again.

“Right. That’s it.”

Finnegan announced.

“We’re taking you to the hospital.”

That cut through some of Connor’s haze and he shook off the arms supporting him.

Collapsing with a hiss of pain back onto the sofa as he did so.

“Connor. You’re injured. You need to get those bruises seen to.”

With his arms wrapped protectively around his torso, he glared up at them and shook his head.

They frowned as he winced from rattling around his brains even more.

“No.”

He told them, speaking at last - trying to sound stern but failing with a rasp that indicated damage to his throat.

Flanagan tucked a finger over his collar, shifting it downwards just enough to show the ring of handprint-shaped marks that hid there before Connor jerked away startled and fearful.

“Connor please.”

Sean begged, nearly crying.

He was worried and scared for his friend and love.

Instead the injured man just curled foetus-like into a ball amongst the cushions, eyes firmly closed to try and contain the tears that were leaking from them.

Finnegan’s fists clenched.

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.”

Both Seans had met Connor’s boyfriend, neither had liked him.

Within a month he had threatened them to stay away from Connor, to stop ‘flirting’ with a taken man.

They didn’t realised until later the punishments Connor had been receiving every time they ignored this piece of ‘advice’.

Somehow this stranger had seen what each of them refused to voice.

That they loved each other.

All three.

Loved each of the other two.

Equally.

In the end, they hadn’t the heart to physically force him to go.

So they let him stay there on the couch as they made dinner and ate it (with McKenna not eating so much as a bite).

Then watched while pretending (again) not to see, as Connor slunk off to the solace of his room.

They didn’t see him for the rest of the evening.

“Connor?”

Flanagan knocked gently on the flimsy wooden door that might as well have been solid steel.

“Can I come in?”

He opened the door regardless of the non-answer and stepped into the gloom.

The curtains were drawn and the room was drenched in shadows.

Dimly he could make out the still and curled form of Connor, under a million layers of blankets, on the far side of the bed.

As he moved cautiously in the darkness, manoeuvring around shrouded obstacles and stepping over discarded clothes, Sean realised Connor was not asleep.

He was awake, or at least he had his eyes open.

Open and blank.

Staring zombied at the empty wall.

Tear stains covered his cheeks and his pillow was soaked.

Flanagan perched with an inaudible sigh at the foot of the bed, careful not to crush Connor’s furled feet.

Gently, with one hand outstretched, he caressed the other man’s back through the bundled material.

Saying nothing the two remained motionless, frozen in time all but Sean’s soothing strokes.

Eventually, Connor broke the silence with a frightened whisper.

“I have to leave him.”

Flanagan said nothing.

McKenna turned to look at him, twisting under the covers to half sit up facing him.

“Don’t I?”

Wordlessly, Sean nodded.

He half expected Connor to cry, but it seemed he was all out.

Instead he just sat there, numb and broken seeming; until he slumped forward and tucked his face into Sean’s exposed neck.

The action made him jump slightly, but his arms of their own accord came up to wrap around the other man.

He held him close, murmuring sweet nothings into his messy hair; caressing his back and arms in long gentle strokes.

Connor shifted on his shoulder and Sean felt his lips – hot and soft – drift against his tingling skin.

He fidgeted, his trousers beginning to become a little uncomfortable as his body realised the situation it was in...

He was holding the man he had been in love with for years, who he _wanted_ , yearned for.

Holding him close, so close that Flanagan realised he could feel a mirrored hardness pressed against his thigh.

Slowly, as if not to startle him, Sean leaned down and nuzzled at Connor’s cheek.

Just as slowly, Connor turned – dragging his lips across Sean’s expanse of pale neck as he did – and met his gentle venture.

They mouthed at each other for a moment; noses, cheeks and lips in contact and impassioned - breath mingling, entangled.

The moment when they first kissed properly was golden.

Fireworks, cymbals, showers of roses: the whole works.

But then Connor pulled sharply away.

He made to climb off Flanagan – for he had practically moved into his lap – shaking his head in anxious jerky motions.

“N-n-no.”

He whispered, stumbling over the word even as he fumbled to half stand.

“You- Finnegan and you- you can’t- I can’t- we-”

“It’s okay.”

Sean tried to reassure him, reaching for his hands - tears gathering as Connor recoiled away.

“It’s okay.”

A voice came from the doorway.

Both men spun suddenly to stare at Finnegan as he stood there...

Slightly silhouetted but mostly like a shadow, like some wraith - the same as them.

Outlines, impersonable; yet individual and special.

Perfect and intimately known.

Each knew each other despite the darkness, by smell or distorted sight or sound or some higher consciousness.

They were known.

By each other and, strangely, by themselves.

In that dim shadowed space, they were true.

They were truly themselves.

And they could love like they truly did.

And could be loved like they truly were.

Truth was king.

And the shadows stayed.

“I know.”

Sean whispered to them, even as he stepped across the short dividing distance to join them, kneeling on the bed beside them and gathering both into his arms.

He kissed Connor first, on the head, then on the cheek and then finally the lips.

A long deep kiss, brimming with emotion, while Flanagan tenderly smoothed the shirts - and the ribcages beneath - of both men.

Then Sean turned to Sean and swallowed his mouth with his.

That kiss was more fierce, less cautious but no less loving.

It was a promise fulfilled.

A call to action.

And a taunting tease.

Both men broke away grinning and gasping; then as one turned to face Connor.

He gazed at them in the half-light, their faces shadowed but their eyes bright.

They could look like monsters to some.

But all he could feel was love.

It welled up like a geyser within him and spilled out as he kissed them.

First Flanagan, the Finnegan, then Flanagan again.

As they lost their clothes and swirled together like a storm cloud, all they could feel was love.

Yes they were nervous, anxious and afraid. 

But even though this was a step into the unknown it was also so very known.

Each had imagined this so many times.

Each had wanted this for so long.

And now each was getting exactly what they wanted: a dream come true.

It was dawn by the time they had all drifted into slumber.

In the light of the day, their actions seemed like landmarks in their lives.

Choices made that could not be unmade, an event that could not be unwritten; even if any of them wanted to.

They awoke almost as one, each rising from sleep and seeing the others almost immediately.

Faint smiles dancing on lips lit with the sun’s warming rays.

There was heat to spare.

Then Flanagan said something that was very important.

None of them realised it until it was spoken but once it was each recognised it for the milestone it needed to be.

“I love you. Both of you. I love you _both_.”

It had been said in the night; in the darkness, in between moans and grunts.

It had been meant then.

It was still meant now.

It was still meant now in the light.

“I love you too.”

Connor replied, breathily - sleep catching his voice and softening it.

“I love both of you.”

He told them.

For a moment, Finnegan did not speak.

He just gazed at them as the other two smiled at each other before turning to look at him.

Then he pulled them both in close.

McKenna he pulled into his right side, where he rested his cheek on his chest and curled around his hip; Finnegan’s hand around his ribs and Flanagan’s clenched in his own.

Flanagan had his head on his shoulder, nose in his neck, while Finnegan’s hand stroked his hair and he stroked his thumb over the back of Connor's hand.

“I love you both.” Sean whispered, as the sun broke through the clouds and the crack in the curtains to fall upon the loving scene.

And there they lay.

Ignoring the day ahead and all they needed to do...

All the things they still needed to say.

For that moment.

Everything was perfect.

No, not perfect.

It did not need to be perfect.

It was real.

Not a dream.

Not a one-time romp under the cover of darkness.

Everything was more than perfect, better than perfect.

Everything was them.

And here and now, that meant everything was _love_.


End file.
